The Heir of Lord Voldemort
by zephyr-swish
Summary: Harry Potter has vanished from the Wizarding World, leaving his friends and family in a state of shock. When it is discovered that Lord Voldemort has created an Heir, Sirius Potter may be the only person who can destroy the Heir... and bring back his fath
1. A Boy and Two Ghosts

It had been a long time since he had heard the name; a very long time indeed. The man, cranky in expression, with an aged, sagging face that had probably once held much weight, suddenly looked up from his morning paper. Such was the time he had heard the name, that he had since managed to convince himself that it no longer existed; that he perhaps was free of the burden that had arrested much of his adult life. He and his wife, who happily spent her old age scrap-booking pictures of their grandchildren, hadn't so much as uttered the name in more than three decades.

When, once again after so long, he heard the name spoken, it was as if his steadfast barrier had instantly crumbled, and he once again felt vulnerable, something he had not felt in a very long time. The man slowly folded his paper and straightened up, pulling his large tweed jacket tighter about him. His beady eyes, buried within folds of skin, darted around, searching the afternoon park for the source of the voice that had spoken the treachery.

But he saw nothing unusual. Only small children and their parents enjoying the last warmth of summer. But the man wasn't convinced. Though he had been trying to forget the name for the last thirty years, he knew at that instant his ears had not be deceived.

When he arrived home, it was to find his wife speaking into the telephone.

"...Yes, yes, Dudley, the children can come spend a weekend with Vernon and me... It _is _a bit short notice... I'll have the spare room ready... Yes, dear... children sometimes can be _quite_ a burden... Yes, I _know_ you need a vacation! Yes, I _know_ you deserve it, Dudley! Alright... alright... I'll see you in an hour... Goodbye." She hung up the phone with a click.

The thin, scurrying woman turned to face her husband. Her wide mouth and hollowed face wore an exasperated expression. The man wasn't quite sure if he should share with her his worries, seeing as she looked as though she had quite enough. So he stayed silent, and let her, as always, do all the talking.

"It was Dudley just now," she began breathlessly, her hand fidgeting and smoothing her blouse, "He and Sylvia have had an argument _again_ and she's locked him out of the house. So now he feels he needs to recuperate, so he's sending the children here for a weekend while he and Sylvia play cat and mouse, Honestly!" She sighed and glanced at the solemnly ticking clock over the mantle.

"What have they been arguing about, Petunia?" The man asked his wife.

"Oh the same old thing," she replied anxiously, smoothing her blouse repeatedly, "Bills, the car, the house... Oh, Vernon..." she said, stopping for a moment and staring at her husband. She was too engrossed with her own problems to see the worry in his eyes. Quickly though, she snapped out of her reverie.

"Oh dear... I'd better get the spare ready..." And with that, she hurried out of the room to the stairs.

Vernon shuffled slowly to the couch and sat down, his mind in disarray. Everything seemed normal enough: his wife fretting and bumbled over Dudley's affairs, the grandchildren stopping by, he, Vernon, reading the afternoon paper on a pleasant summer Friday, and --- the man stopped and sniffed the air --- raspberry scones baking in the oven. So he could not find an explanation for why he had heard someone whispering the name "Harry Potter" at the park.

"And that's checkmate... I'm afraid you've lost, kid,"

A boy and his uncle sat at a chess table scattered with the remains of noble chessman that had been assailed in warfare during an intense game of chess.

"Aw, c'mon! What happened to the days when you used to let me win?" The boy said, smiling at his uncle, who chuckled, and ruffled his nephew's dark auburn hair.

"You're practically a grown man --- fourteen!" he added, as though his nephew had forgotten.

"If I'm such a man, then will you at least stop calling me kid?"

The boy's uncle chuckled, "We might have to wait on that!"

Before the boy could remark, a woman walked in the room. Though she was nearing middle age, she was still very beautiful, with long, striking red hair and youthful freckles on her still unlined face.

"Ron, leave him alone!" she laughed, slapping her older brother on the shoulder. Ron put his hands up in defeat.

"I surrender, I surrender!" he said.

The woman turned to the boy, and fixed slightly more stern look on her face.

"Sirius, your room is filthy! I expect it to be cleaned by the time your aunt and cousins arrive!"

Sirius moaned, "Aw, Mom," he groaned, "Can't you just use a charm on it or something? "

"That room needs more than a charm..." Ron interjected sarcastically. Sirius glared at him. Ron grinned.

"No!" the woman said to her son, and then turning to glare at Ron. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Hey! I'm on your side, Ginny!" he said.

Now it was Ginny who rolled her eyes.

Ron yawned and pulled out his silver pocket watch.

"Hermione and the kids should be arriving soon," he said to Ginny, who nodded. There was silence for a moment. Suddenly, Ron sat bolt upright, as though he'd just remembered something urgent, and leaning towards Ginny he whispered, "I have news...".

Ginny glanced quickly at Sirius, and her voice took on a whispered, serious tone.

"Is it... about... Harry?"

Ron's benevolent face collapsed into something grave and he nodded; he too, then, glanced hurriedly at Sirius. Sirius knew better than to hang around; his presence was clearly unwanted, so he left the is mother and uncle to discuss the whereabouts of his newly missing father, Harry Potter.

Sirius wandered to the living room, staring into golden framed mirror on the wall. He examined his face, which had changed subtly over the past year. It looked older now, wiser. It was a face that hid many secrets, that had perhaps too soon abandoned childhood. Sirius' face was mischievously elfin, though grim, with a long nose like his mother. His face was pale and freckled, and his hair was a dark auburn, a mix of his mother's bright red hair, and his father's jet black. Most people concluded that he looked much more like his mother than his father, and Sirius himself agreed. He could see very little of his father staring back at him from the mirror. However, there was one thing, one unmistakable detail that caused people to glance twice at him, seeing in him the heroic ghost of his father. It was the eyes. Almond shaped, they were mysterious and deep, going on forever; they held much wisdom for a boy so young, and they were bright emerald green sprayed majestically with gold, impossible to miss. 'You have your father's eyes' he repeatedly heard, as people stared at him in awe. It was said to him so often that Sirius found it wearing.

Next to the mirror was an unusual clock that his mother had inherited from his grandmother when she died years ago. Instead of two hands and numbers around the edge, it had three hands with the names Sirius, Ginny, and Harry inscribed on them and things like Home, Traveling, Work, and Mortal Peril around the edges. Currently, two of the hands were pointed at Home. However, one was pointed at Mortal Peril, and that was the hand inscribed with the name Harry.

Sirius sighed. He couldn't count how many nights he had spent staring at the clock, wishing that the hand would change. But it would stubbornly remain on Mortal Peril. Sirius was now so used to seeing it that tears no longer welled up in his eyes. He turned and collapsed onto the maroon couch, where he lay wearily, staring up into the high rafters of ceiling through which drifted the shimmering silver ghost of a phoenix. His father used to spend hours whispering to the spirit phoenix, named Fawkes, the bird responding with gentle songs that would soothe Harry Potter. The ghost phoenix now looked at Sirius with a clouded contemplative eye. Perhaps it knew that Sirius had retreated deep into his thoughts, because suddenly the bird descended from its perch on the ceiling to rest its translucent plumed head on Sirius' chest. Sirius felt the cold of a ghost seeping through him, but he did not stir.

Harry Potter had been missing for three long months. Rumors had spread that somehow Voldemort had returned, but that was untrue. Voldemort was forever gone. Harry Potter had destroyed him years ago. Other wizards suggested that he had killed himself, but Sirius and Ginny knew otherwise. It was popular belief that the hero had fled towards the mountains to live a life of solitude, but this was exaggeration. Harry Potter was not one to flee. It was a great mystery, perhaps never to be explained. Harry Potter had vanished without a trace, leaving his son nothing but the solace of a ghost familiar, Fawkes.


	2. The Heir

Sirius opened his eyes to find that Fawkes had drifted back up to the ceiling. He heard voices coming from the kitchen. His aunt and cousins must have arrived.

"Sirius!" His aunt Hermione rushed towards him with open arms. Sirius shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground as he was swept into a tight hug. He didn't quite feel in the mood for hugs.

Hermione must have sensed this, so she quickly let go, and instead looked into Sirius' eyes and gave him a warm smile. It was an invitation: to talk, to relieve himself of some of his more complicated emotions. Sirius looked back at her, communicating with her that he would indeed accept her invitation, and that they would talk later.

Sirius turned to his two cousins with hair as auburn as his own, though much curlier. The twins smiled at Sirius. He relaxed a little and smiled at them. Morgan rushed over to him immediately, squeezing Sirius' hands. Her twin brother Nicholas grinned broadly at him. But Sirius was still feeling a bit out of sorts. He forced a smile and nodded at Nicholas.

Hermione turned to Ron and kissed him on the cheek before running to Ginny and giving her a hug. Ginny then gave her a significant look that implied the intentions of more secretive discussion. Hermione nodded and turned to the three teenagers.

"Alright, we have things to discuss, so why don't you show your cousins around, Sirius?" Hermione said in her characteristic commanding tone. Sirius merely shrugged and motioned for Nick and Morgan to follow him. The twins rolled their eyes at their mother in union, and reluctantly followed Sirius into the living room.

"Excited for school?" Morgan asked once they had reached the living room in an attempt to spark conversation. Sirius shrugged. Morgan and Nick were two years older than Sirius, going into their sixth year, and in Ravenclaw.

"Sirius?" Morgan's voice was gentle and characteristically feminine. Sirius snapped back to life.

"Yeah?" he asked quickly. Morgan spared him an odd look before continuing.

"Well, how has your summer been?" she asked softly.

Sirius knew what she was really asking; she wanted to about his father. There was an awkward pause, and Sirius wasn't quite sure what to say. On the wall behind her, was the clock where his father's hand was still fixed on Mortal Peril.

"It's been ok," Sirius said offhandedly. Morgan didn't look convinced. She sighed and, fixing a determined look on her face, stared straight into Sirius' eyes, attempting something like Legilimency and failing miserably. Sirius blinked. He didn't need nor want to tell her anything. Nick, the sensible one, must have felt this tension.

"Morgan, leave him alone," he said bluntly. Morgan bit her lip and turned to her twin brother. A strange expression passed over her face, but Nick rolled his eyes.

"Me and Morgan will go unpack our stuff," Nick concluded of the silent conversation between Morgan and he, leading his sister gently away from Sirius.

Sirius stood still, staring up into the rafters, looking but not quite seeing anything.

"Sirius?" A voice broke his thoughts. It was Hermione.

"Oh... hello..." Sirius said quietly. Hermione walked over to the couch and sat down, motioning for Sirius to sit. He did.

"I can be honest, or I can be vague. Which would you prefer?" Hermione's voice was firm.

"Honest," Sirius said; if there was one thing he hated, it was ambiguity. "Your father has been missing for three months," she began, "with little reason as to why. As you may or may not know, your parents, as well as Ron and I, your uncle Fred and uncle George, Luna Lovegood --- Ginny's had her round for tea several times, I'm sure --- Neville Longbottom and a few others are all part of something called the Third Order; it's a defense organization that spawned from something we began at Hogwarts called 'Dumbledore's Army',"

Sirius raised his eyebrows, "What does The Third Order have to do with anything?"

Hermione gave a painful smile, "Quite a bit," she said simply.

Sirius bit his lip.

"The Third Order formed right after Albus Dumbledore's death. Your dad, Ron, and I went out to seek Voldemort while the rest --- your mother included --- stayed as lookouts at Hogwarts. Ron and I stayed with Harry for five years, searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes," she paused, looking at Sirius. But Sirius knew what a Horcrux was. His father had kept one of them --- a locket. Sirius nodded. Hermione continued:

"Harry was determined to find Voldemort and destroy him, but after a point, he had to go on alone; Ron and I could no longer help him. And so for six years, Harry was gone. And when he returned, it was with news that Voldemort had been destroyed. Harry was incredibly weak. He was hospitalized at St. Mungo's for months. But he healed. All was well... for a while," Hermione sighed, "Ron and I got married, and soon after, your parents did as well. Voldemort was gone for good, his supporters were in Azkaban. Everything seemed fine," She gave Sirius a significant look, "For thirteen years everything seemed fine. But a year ago, the Third Order discovered something. We discovered something terrible. We had believed that Harry had destroyed Voldemort... But we were wrong. Though Harry had destroyed all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and then successfully vanquished Voldemort, there was something that, until recently, the Third Order failed to realize. Lord Voldemort had created an heir. He sealed one last, tiny fragment of his soul into an heir. Voldemort may not be entirely gone; that tiny bit of Voldemort's soul may have already merged with the heir's own soul; Voldemort's fragment of a soul also has the potential to overtake the heir's soul,"

Sirius' mouth fell open. He was shocked, "Who's the heir!"

Hermione shook her head gravely, "We don't know. All we know is that this heir was created shortly before Voldemort's death. So it's logical to conclude that this heir, this chid of Voldemort, is about your age..."

Sirius was thunderstruck.Voldemort's reincarnation was walking upon the face of the earth. How could it possibly be? Voldemort had destroyed the very fabric of Sirius' life. It was because of Voldemort that Sirius had no father... a mourning mother... a life destined for misery...

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Sirius, "What if the heir goes to Hogwarts!" he exclaimed.

Hermione bit her lip, 'It's possible,"

"Does the heir know he's the heir?" Sirius asked quietly.

"We're unsure. But most likely not. The heir's natural soul was pure at birth, and should he desire, the heir could destroy Voldemort's fragmented soul without causing much damage too himself; I'm quite sure Voldemort would not have wanted that..." Hermione said.

"Who are the parents?" Sirius asked.

"We don't know. However, they, I'm sure, know that their foster child is the heir of Voldemort, so they must have been Voldemort's most loyal supporters,"

Sirius nodded, lost in thought, "Does Dad have the power to destroy the heir?"

Hermione looked constrained, "I don't think he can... The heir still has his own soul; a soul that is innocent. Your father cannot destroy him without significant damage to himself."

Sirius looked up at Fawkes on the ceiling: silvery and translucent, as ghostly as a whisper in the dark. Something had occurred to Sirius. Something that made his mind race and his heart shrivel. His father would go to any lengths to destroy Voldemort. Harry Potter would even sacrifice himself... But he would never hurt an innocent...

"Hermione," Sirius whispered.

"Yes?" she said gently.

"If Dad killed himself... The Prophecy would fulfill itself... And should the Prophecy be fulfilled, fate would allow itself to occur... And should fate occur... " Sirius couldn't continue.

"A new fate will arise." Hermione finished for him. Her eyes were filled with the deepest sadness. Something about her voice told Sirius that Harry Potter was gone. That he would be gone forever. Fawkes gave a solemn cry and drifted slowly down to Sirius.


End file.
